


Understanding Eve

by domacastle



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Consensual, Demon AU, Demon Aaravos, Demon/Human Relationships, Demons, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Priest AU, Priest Viren, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Roman Catholicism, he totally wants it ofc dw, hints at harrow/viren but its not detailed, you get my drift
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 07:27:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17935415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/domacastle/pseuds/domacastle
Summary: Between the tall ivory pillars, the sweeping gold and purple banners and the marble busts of serene angels, there are nooks and there are crannies that only God can see.





	1. The Storm

There were fair few places Viren had ever felt truly alone, for the eyes of God were everywhere of course and his spirit was not an easy sort to lose. Even alone within the chapel where shadows cast by candlelight were his only visible companions, Viren was not truly alone. Whenever he closed his eyes, he felt his presence there; the comfort of goodness, the Holy Father and his spirit caressing him in an eternal, loving embrace. 

Seeking out places unseen by God’s eyes was not ever within Viren’s intentions. Indeed, he imagined himself as one of His finest servants; dripping in Catholic gold with his fingers and wrists adorned in precious, holy jewels. He was proud to stand before his congregation as a glittering mass of blessed silver and ruby. 

He had been devoted for many years. The position had sung to him ever since he was a mere child, the grandeur of such a role beckoned to him as destiny ought, and thus he fell upon the stone floor of the chapel, surrendering his will to God himself. In times of such desperation, the people looked to the heavens and the throne for their answers and whilst the honourable King Harrow was always so just and fair, it was God who would surely send them the blessings they prayed for. They reached flea-bitten hands to the priest and Viren could not cast them aside, sheltering them from the cold as a holy man ought. Offering them comfort in the darkest of ages, as foretold in the scripts he had studied so fondly.

Adored by the people, he was as necessary as water to a well for those common folk, and he did not deny his place there. How could he? He stood before the crowds adorned in the jewels of his former mentors, preaching the good, Latin word of a God who would show any sinner his mercy. 

God would guide him along, as rough as that road often seemed, and he pledged his vows to serve him and his country, until he drew his final breath.

-

A shrieking wind tore through the kingdom. Endless groans and wailing loud enough to summon the dead from their coffin beds, swept the town and awoke the priest with a start. The sweat-soaked sheets twirled as the man sat up bolt right, reaching for a match to re-illuminate the chamber. Such a fierce storm; the villagers had warned as much. The entire day had been spent in preparation; sealing down the stable roofs to prevent them from taking flight during the night. The storms always seemed to take their fair share of casualties from the poorest parts of the kingdom, and Viren did not doubt that once morning came he would bear witness to its devastation once more.

The crashes and sounds of wood from beyond the church windows seemed to allude that perhaps those plans to safeguard the nearby farm houses had been for nought. 

With the room then glowing in a weak amber hue, Viren swung his legs from the bed and sank his feet to the cold floor below. The building groaned as Viren continued to make his way steadily to the chamber door. He lifted the bolt aside and reached for the candle, lifting it with a spare hand before he waded out carefully into the corridor. 

A fierce breeze whistled its way along the passage, seemingly from some blown-apart window further along the hallway, but Viren turned to descend down the wooden steps, taking his time as if fearful that the breeze might just upset his balance. Whilst the upkeep of the church was no abandoned cause, there were places where the priest could not reach; the highest rafters a patch-worked array of brick and rotting wood. 

He was never afraid to walk the chapel at night. There was nothing inherently scary about the place and as a site of worship, it was arguably supposed to be free of danger and harm. The worst that could possibly occur, besides the spilling of wine across his robe ( it had only happened the once ) was that perhaps a tree might scratch its branches on the window and cause it to shatter. Until he was given good reason, Viren continued to walk comfortably along the passageways as the thunder clapped from beyond the walls. 

Such a terrible night it was, he thought to himself as he finally reached the bottom of the spiralling stairway. Perhaps a fresh glass of water or an unread book from his collection would see him off to a far gentler sleep. Some food too, had the mice not done away with any of the leftovers. 

Out of sheer habit Viren poked his head around the curtain to flit his eyes across the many pews situated before his alter. Although the wood had taken a beaten in many years, the dark mahogany was a point of pride for the priest. Each week those seats would be bustling and scrammed with his willing congregation, villagers and often noblemen alike. He had always enjoyed those eyes upon him, the teachings which guided his life something he could impart to others and thus keep the Lord’s goodwill stretching as far as the eye could see. 

Viren scanned the room, several flashes of lightning illuminating the faces of smiling, peaceful stone angels and the array of black leather bibles scattered across the various seats. 

Everything seemed normal enough. Granted, it was difficult to tell in the dark of night and the small flame of his candle did little to shed light on each corner of his church, but most of it seemed untouched. He exhaled a sigh of relief. Viren made to withdraw back into the corridor, to proceed onward to the little kitchen at the church’s rear, but movement caught his eye. 

He blinked.

A trick of the light? Perhaps the shadow of a tree beyond one of the many painted windows? He could not be too sure. A yawn broke him free of his momentary pause and he lifted a hand to stifle it. Yes, it was merely… exhaustion. He lingered just for a moment however, as if daring the shadows to retry their attempts at spooking him. 

Nothing. 

**“ Goodness me… “** The light of his candle trembled within his grip, but he soon steadied himself. Beneath his robes he felt the relentless thump of his heart, beating semi-furiously but he continued to exhale long and slow breaths. There was nothing to fear, not here. Not within the sight of God and his angels. Even the marble face of Mary, so kind and so hopeful, was not shadowed by any semblance of terror. 

_Yes_ , he was protected there. From what? His imagination running wild, it seemed.

As Viren entered the kitchen, he felt his body relax some at the sight of the familiar, comforting things he knew that he needed; the tall pitcher of water he always left out for himself, a tray of bread half-eaten from the daily service, and the scrolls of notes he had been preparing for the week ahead. He placed the candle onto the counter top and reached for the water. 

The night air had chilled the glass and his throat was all the more grateful for it; the cool liquid soothing his lips and slipping easily down his neck. A little too enthralled with the relief it offered, some of that water over-spilled from his lips and ran thin streams along the skin of his neck. His pale smile glistened with the moisture for a moment before he dabbed the spillage away with the corner of his handkerchief.

It was incredible how such a small relief could calm his nerves. Even that relentless banging and clattering of the wind wrestling with the cemetery’s oaks felt distant somehow. The lightning seemed duller in light too, as if the kitchen space was an untouchable sanctuary for the priest and his nervous heart. 

Viren drained the contents of his glass and retrieved his candle. A new wave of exhaustion had washed over him and he felt his bed summoning him once more, thus he began the long journey back. Bare feet against the cold stone. A warm palm against the ancient tapestries. A now-steady hand gripping the metal of his candle’s holder. The wax was only half-melted by then, the teardrops of porcelain white sliding into the golden tray creating a pool of pure cream around its base. 

The world grew silent for a few moments. Not a sound shook the heavens, the lightning too suddenly stilling and the thunder rolling into mere murmurs. Viren almost did not notice, did not even suspect that perhaps the storm had died, for he was too enthralled with the prospect of a deep sleep. But something did cause him to pause.

_Movement._

Towards the end of the corridor, where the curtains fell to separate the main chapel from the back rooms, something had definitely moved.

Viren froze. The only movement came from the heavy rise and fall of his chest, the pale cloth of his robes trembling with the breeze as he waited and watched. There it was again. So fast that a blink would surely cause him to miss it. Through the abyss of darkness, Viren squinted and lifted his light further. Light could chase those shadows aside, the warmth of God within his heart certainly capable of protecting him from his own imagination, he hoped. 

**“ Hello? “**

A loud clap of thunder replied. It caused his hand to shake in shock, but he did not drop the candle. That relentless beating of his heart had returned and Viren scolded himself for being so fearful of nothing. Merely tricks of the eye, a result of his fatigue! There were no such things as monsters… not upon this holy ground!

 

For a moment it seemed as if it had been simply wild imaginative thoughts. Merely thunder and rain toying with his mind as a tired man grappled with his exhausted sanity. But before Viren could withdraw and finally climb the staircase back to bed, that whistling wind came howling once more.

In an instant the candle’s flame was extinguished. He very nearly dropped the tray in fright, his free hand clenching into a fist and pressing tight against his chest. It was only darkness, only nighttime. Nothing to fear, nothing to be afraid of. Nothing to fear. Nothing to fear. 

**“ God I pray that you stay with me and keep me free from harm, may your light guide my weary soul to rest. May this storm pass like any other. Amen. “**

He mumbled the prayer to himself as he released his robes and felt along the wall for guidance. That heartbeat felt more akin to drums of war now, ringing within his skull as the blood pumped furiously. Just as Viren had found the railing to take him upward, a voice unhinged that final peace of mind.

**“ Ah, if only your God could keep you safe from my breed of harm. “**

That voice, low enough to rival the very thunder with its booming groans. Every greying hair along the back of Viren’s neck prickled to life and whilst he may have been able to keep his grip upon the extinguished candle before, the voice caused him to drop it unceremoniously to the ground. It clattered and rolled into the abyss. 

**“ Who… who goes there? “** Even his voice was trembling with fear, the words crackling like a dying fire as his throat tightened. Unable to see, unable to even hear with the beating of his pulse echoing within his ear, he felt numb and exposed within the darkness. 

Sweaty palms grasped for the wall but instead his fingertips found loose satin tapestries. He released it instantly before retreating until his spine met the cold stone of one of the walls behind him.

A chuckle, closer than that voice had initially been, drew a ragged inhale of breath from Viren’s lips. He would not scream, he would not run. Whatever faced him would only bow to the light of His radiance. This was a house of God, not a place of horror and mystery. Viren attempted to regain composure and to speak plainly once more. 

**“ Is… who are you? Show yourself to me! “**

Some gumption found its way into his tone as he swallowed back a fragment of his fear.

 **“ Very well. “** Answered the voice, prompting the priest to take a step back. **“ Prepare yourself, servant of God. “**

A spark of lightning rippled from beyond the mosaic windows. Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus within the manger adorned by animals became coloured in an instant by the flash. The entire chapel was illuminated in those few small seconds, including the small passageway occupied by Viren and his surprise visitor.

With only a few moments to rake in the appearance of the creature before him, Viren’s eyes darted across every inch, every stretch he could, gasping before what little breath he had left became lodged within his chest.

Fear spiked along every nerve as his mind attempted to understand what he had seen, but even then he wished so desperately to be dreaming. Skin the shade of a storm-torn evening sky, black eyes like pools of ink. Silver hair which tumbled about the creature’s shoulders...and those horns.

_Demon._

**“ No… Please… please leave me alone… I beg you… “**

Not quite sobbing, Viren’s tone emerged strangled and desperate. Was he to die there, clad in the darkness of a winter storm, alone and afraid? Was this… punishment? He had served the Lord so faithfully, what had he done to deserve such an ending? 

Baroque paintings which marked the ceiling above the pews painted such meetings; of humans cowering in the shadows as the powerful half-nude forms of demonic entities mocked and toyed with their hearts. Nightmarish visions, meant to frighten the sinners to their knees and have them begging at the feet of their priest for forgiveness. 

Everything about that figure had been terrifying, but one thing above all else remained clear within his mind long after the lightning had faded and he was once again thrown into darkness.

The white fangs of that cruel smirk. 

The low rumble of the chuckling sounded again, but this time Viren was offered _a name._ A name which spiked a prickle of fear. One which preyed upon his trembling, shaken form and nearly saw him collapse to the stranger’s feet. It came like a whisper as if it was a sinful secret meant only for his ears. Spoken so slowly, Viren’s breath hitched at the final syllable. 

**“ I am Aaravos. “**


	2. A Space Between The Clouds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me, for I have committed my first sin.

_Aaravos…_ That name was not unknown to his ear and as if his entire body was cursed to recall it, his limbs suddenly felt as loose as water. As weak as flora. Somewhere within the cold-sweat of his fear Viren had fallen to the floor. What could have been cool, pleasant stone against his skin was instead numb and dull. He felt as though he was still falling, endlessly and eternal, until Aaravos spoke once more and he felt gravity thrust him back into the room. 

**“ Hah, it seems as though you are already quite familiar with that name, hm? “**

He sounded almost amused. Perhaps he was, but with so little of the light to guide him Viren could see nothing of the demon’s face to confirm if that was indeed true. Somehow, he imagined that smile to have grown wider. 

The name alone was a curse, a damning prophecy to all men, for the demon who bore that title was infamous as one of the worst of his kind. A cautious but snide type, who had fooled the greedy men in the holy book to commit sin to restore their assumed perception of freedom and free will. He had tempted them; wealth and food pouring from his lips as romantic promises, until the men begged for the guidance he could offer. And Aaravos bestowed it upon them, showering them with the selfish desires their hearts craved. But there was a lesson to be learned, as with all verses. The selflessness of the Lord was not to be forgotten, that those who should bend their knee to liars and devils were sinners in His eyes. 

For Aaravos never offered anything without expecting something in return.

The men of the stories were stripped of their wives, losing them to vicious and cruel plagues. Their children lost within the deserts, where the sandy storms washed over their footprints. Their crops wilted and their land became mud. The food became spoiled and eroded within their mouths and the wealth turned to ashes in their palms. Sweet and delicious desires of the flesh became a ravenous hunger unsatisfied by anything but the feral taste of blood and bone. 

Viren knew the stories well enough to not want to continue recalling how terrible those details were, for Aaravos was as greedy as those sinners he preyed upon and no prize was never worthy enough. No amount of blood could satisfy his amusement. 

**“ If you’ve come for… for gold, take it all, take it… please. “**

Some spark of hope burst within him. He looked up, hoping to meet the demon’s eyes somehow through the blanket of darkness, his pupils flitting to and fro. He still had yet to scream. God was surely listening, keeping him safe somehow. There was no reason that a demon such as that would escape so easily, was there? Would He not strike down this wretched creature of damnation? To even speak to it felt… _unclean_ , somehow. As if he had defiled the Lord by merely accepting the beast as real at all. 

That deep laughter returned. So low it could rival that of the still rumbling storm. How it shook Viren to his very bones. 

**“ Gold? You think I’m interested in something as human as money? What good is gold to me, exactly? “**

Viren felt stupid. For a moment, he was glad for the darkness, if only so that the burning of his cheeks and ears went unseen. 

**“ Then.. what… what is it that you want? This is holy ground, a place of peace and worship.I don’t want any trouble. Not for the people. Not...not for me… “**

A priest was meant to ward away the darkness, be a light for others in the bleakest of moments. But there, sprawled upon his knees, who was he to anyone, to anything? He was meant to offer a guiding hand and know just how to combat such things, but never had he imagined this. Never, not once, had he pictured a demon walking within the walls of his precious chapel. 

But the demon was not quite so concerned with the state of Viren’s bravery. In fact, whilst Viren grappled for some semblance of understanding Aaravos instead extended a hand into the darkness. He chuckled and then whispered something, an unfamiliar tongue to Viren’s ears. At the final breath of the demon’s words, a fire blossomed within his palm and suddenly Viren was granted the gift of sight once again. 

Given another chance to look over Aaravos he was at least somewhat prepared for the other’s alarming presence, but it failed to stop the gasp which parted his trembling lips once more. Aaravos was indeed still smirking. In the flickering amber hue of light, Viren could make out part of his clothing; how the black robes clung loose to his hips, how his neck and arms were adorned in golden bangles. How his ears were decorated with dripping jewels and glittering studs. His chest was bare, the skin there freckled with constellations of stars. 

Oil-painted ceilings and marble busts could not have captured the depth of that unfamiliar beauty. There was a foreign yet so captivating allure to Aaravos’s visage that saw Viren glaze across his form with some semblance of awe. As if admiring a priceless painting, he felt somewhat entranced by what stood before his eyes. Nothing from his biblical texts had described the feeling which demons gave off, the very emotions one felt just from being so close to one. Intrigue. Confusion. Temptation… 

Viren shook his head. Sense began flooding back into him. 

**“ Aaravos… “** Speaking the name defiled him more. He envisioned himself gargling holy water endlessly just to cleanse himself, as if he ever could. **“ Am I… is this a test? “** He wondered for a moment if it was all in fact a dream. Had he made it back to his bed safe and sound? Was this merely a nightmare summoned by the storm? But he could not pretend it felt unreal, that the way Aaravos’s gaze seemed to graze his skin with mere glances felt anything but true. 

**“ I suppose you could call it that. “** Replied the star-spotted creature, his forked tongue rolling across his fangs after he spoke. **“ But not from Him. I’ve been watching you, Viren. Such an interesting little man you are, hm? I have waited many nights to finally come and visit you. “** Every word seemed dripped in its own thick honey, how deliciously the letters rolled from his tongue and hissed between his teeth. 

Viren’s eyes darted aside. Watching him? He felt disgusting, violated somehow, though he knew not why that was. But there was no denying the heat still flushed within his face, and the return of his humming heart throbbing against his night robes. 

**“ I-I don’t understand, please. “**

Aaravos appeared almost sympathetic for a moment, his smile still as wide as a curved moon and his dark eyes still fixed upon the man at his feet. Even without Viren splayed across the floor as he was, Aaravos was a far greater height than he. Towering above him as horrific creatures were foretold to do. 

**“ Now now, there’s no need to worry, your holiness. “** He needn’t kneel, instead he merely reached a violet-toned hand down to brush his fire-less palm against Viren’s trembling cheek. The priest flinched upon instinct. He wasn’t sure which he had most expected; a searing, frozen touch of a lifeless icy shard, or the burning wrath of hell’s flames to scorch his human skin. But he received neither. Aaravos’s skin was merely… soft, as his own was. He could smell it too, something earthy like a burning wood but somehow faintly sweet as well. Perhaps to rival his sickly addictive tone of voice. 

**“ If I had made plans to hurt you, you would cease to draw breath… “** Aaravos removed his fingers from Viren’s cheek and instead lifted his forefinger to press gently against his own purple bottom lip. **“ No no, it simply fascinates me how a man so clearly in possession of better brains than the common man would serve an invisible God so willingly. Each day is spent bowing your head to an unknown force, one which may not even exist. And yet you need no proof. So long as the gold remains upon your head and the wine within the goblet, who cares for proof? Viren, do you honestly believe in such a higher power? “**

As he spoke Aaravos guided his free hand to touch a fingertip against Viren’s skyward-aligned chin. Gently, he nudged. Viren moved along with the hand and rose until his feet found their place upon the floor. Up and up he went, his knees straightening and his robes falling to hang loose and free once more about his frame. 

Viren remained speechless. 

What was he to say? _Of course_ he believed in God. Who else could forge the world into what it was, would damn the wicked and save the innocent? Who else created the sky, the sea, the lush green fields of their countryside? His brows furrowed, but he remained lost within the whirlwind that was feeling the attentive eyes of Aaravos, their eyes fixed upon one another as the demon continued to speak. 

**“ Every man deserves their place in the world, but you… you don’t belong here skulking around a church so very late at night. You belong in silver, in ruby and gold. You belong at the very peak of your power, not here… serving a God who will not even show you His face. “**

Anxious thoughts prickled against Viren’s mind as the words flooded in, as Aaravos talked and talked and made his head swim with oh so much. He enjoyed his place there, serving both his god and his king. To support the throne and state was merely part of his role, but upon Aaravos’s words he could not help but imagine himself wearing Harrow’s crown. He despised that thought almost instantly, but not out of anger for the context of betrayal to his old friend, but because in his mind… that finery _suited him._

**“ What does any of this have to do with you? My faith and my place here suit me fine enough. “** Viren knocked the hand away causing Aaravos to shift his attention elsewhere, lighting several of the nearby candelabras which hung along the wall before extinguishing his palm of flames with a soft breath. 

**“ I have already told you, your holiness. You _interest me._ “**

Turning back, Viren was able to see so much more of Aaravos than before. How his body was far more built than his, the muscular form he was given much larger than his lithe and thinner frame. He straightened himself somewhat to reassert himself. With his heart finally soothing itself back into a more comfortable pace, most of that initial fear had already left him. Instead he found himself curious. Curious as to what Aaravos could possibly find interesting about him. 

And as blasphemous as that snake-like tongue of his was, a small fragment of Viren could admit that he enjoyed hearing Aaravos talk. 

Whilst his body had warmed some, whether it was by the fire’s heat or merely by his nerves finally stilling, Viren was still wary. Of course, how could he not be? The creature before him was the talk of nightmares. The things God had made him fear for as long as he was able to read. But Aaravos did not pluck at his eyeballs or claw his pointed nails into his skin, as the oil depicted. Even the poetry had always described those lust-starved demons who sought nothing but the flesh of men. But Aaravos had only touched him, he had only felt his skin for a moment, like that of a lover’s caress. _Or so he imagined._

**“ So long has it been since the presence of a human has captivated me so, but you… you are something so unlike any of those I have seen before. I knew I had to meet you, to speak with you, for myself. “**

Aaravos moved a little closer and Viren withdrew until his back bumped gently against the stone wall. So close, he could make out the scars against the demon’s skin, every burned bump and pale line where the wounds had faded with time. Viren tried to keep his gaze lifted, to keep their gazes met, but he could not help the selfish wandering of his glances. The inquisitive eyes of a holy man upon that which was deemed filthy and so sinful.

Viren gulped. 

**“ I don’t see why I should be of any interest to you, demon. “** He abandoned the formality of his name and instead uttered the word like a swear. Aaravos merely grinned at that summoned ferocity. **“ As I said before, I am merely a man of the church. Whatever you _think_ I am, I am not. I serve willingly and faithfully and whichever sin you wish to bring upon this house, I beg you to reconsider. “ **

What was that which flooded his veins so readily? 

It was no longer fear which had him cowering within the shadows, but a gumption he had almost forgotten he possessed. He lifted his chin and did not shy from the closeness of the demon before him. Instead he attempted to stand his ground. If he was truly so _interesting_ , perhaps he would escape with his life. But the more he talked and listened, the more he observed and learned, the more fascinated he felt himself become.

No, it was no longer fear. It had become the small flames of excitement. 

Aaravos tutted and Viren caught a glimpse once more of that strange tongue; how it seemed far longer than his own, with its two angled tips slithering between his teeth. 

**“ Come now, Viren. You can claim your place here all you wish, but don’t you agree that you belong upon this earth for something more? God cannot provide you the freedom you deserve, nor the pleasure your life so clearly lacks. All alone within your prison walls, do you not grow restless here? What good is having this small flicker of power when you have nought to do with it? What good is your heart if you cannot let if feel what it was made to feel? “**

At that, Viren paused. 

He had never felt _lonely_ , per se. Of course there was a difference between longings of the heart and the desperation of touches against skin. Naturally he had had those thoughts now and then, even God could forgive such thoughts, but they were fleeting and forbidden all the same. He had once imagined his king, his lord, pressing his fine-robed body against his own against some velvet curtain in the royal chambers, but cold water against his cheeks had soon rid him of that. But with the demon so close he felt those same thoughts reoccur; the tempting yet restricted acts he had denied himself in the name of God suddenly a bleeding reminder of what he could have had. Touch-starved, his will was certainly bent. 

**“ Well? “** Asked the tempter, his dark eyes glittering as if he already knew of the answer. **“ What is it that you desire most? What has your God stripped from you that only I and my Lord can offer you instead? Speak it now, Viren. “**

**“ Pleasure… “**

His voice was weak. He croaked the word and Aaravos responded with his usual chuckling. 

**“ Yes, your holiness. _Pleasure._ Endless, selfish, tainted pleasure. It is always such a shame to find humans like you so deprived of their basic needs. The need to be touched, to be held, to be ravished. “**

As the demon spoke he bowed his head to press those verbal desires against the shell of Viren’s ear. A mere slave to his virginal inexperience, the priest then shuddered at the contact. Whereas he was usually so much more composed, there he found his entire body aflame with unfamiliar want, his skin somehow burning but in a comfortable and far more welcome manner than before. 

**“ Y-yes… “**

Perhaps it was the alluring deep tone which relaxed his body some, or perhaps it had been inevitable from the very start, but Viren found himself melting against Aaravos in the dead of night, hands clutching to those bare shoulders as the demon bent down to press a kiss against Viren’s parted lips. 

And like a starved man, Viren _dined_ upon that taste.

Sweetness of wine and warmth of summer heat met with his hungry lips and he felt his eyes close as the very taste of Aaravos sent him into a haze. He had never wanted anything so desperately, _so urgently._ Aaravos’s chest pressed firm against his own and within their kiss, Viren gasped. His body was stirred to life in a manner he had for so long convinced himself forbidden of, his attention suddenly very focused upon the fact that his cock was hardening within his small clothes. 

**“ Aaravos… “** he half-whispered, _half-moaned_. The demon merely grunted some reply of approval before reaching between them, his palm kneading the tent Viren’s cock had made of his robes. A strangled gasp broke their kiss once more, but Viren soon reunited their lips with a kiss of his own. Addicted, he did not want to waste a second apart from those sinful, delicious lips. Something slick prodded his mouth open and Viren trembled as the forked intrusion rolled across his own nervous tongue. He felt damned, but delighted all the same. 

As Viren became lost within that ocean of newfound pleasure, Aaravos made light work of loosening the golden cord of Viren’s robe. The fabric fell from his grip as though he had drawn aside lace curtains, Viren’s exposed skin that holy light he normally would not dare to touch. But his unblemished, untainted body was heaven for his fingers as they danced across his narrow chest and fed themselves into his briefs. 

**“ Your body and your mind yearn for it, Viren. That freedom, that blissful release you deserve. Isn’t that right, your holiness? “** They had broken apart for a breath with Viren’s lips smeared with glistening spit and Aaravos’s pointed teeth having returned to his signature smirk. The priest’s mouth felt raw somehow and he pressed a tender fingertip to that sensitive skin, only to then hook his arm around the back of his guest.

**“ Yes… please. I… I want it. “**

**“ No. Beg. I want to hear you beg for me, here in the eyes of your God. Where all of His angels can hear you and He can watch you come undone. “**

Aaravos was cruel. Crueller than those tales had foretold. Crueller than anything Viren had ever imagined possible, even from a demon.

**“ I beg of you… touch me, please. Aaravos, I… “** He exhaled heavily, his cheeks burning a sickly crimson. **“ Please, have mercy. “**

With a booming laugh to challenge the crackling twigs of the battered trees outside, Aaravos finally wrapped his hand around Viren’s leaking cock. **“ Oh no, your holiness. Mercy is for _Christ_ alone. “**

It was difficult to withhold his gasps what with such skilled fingers squeezing his cock gently and jerking his wrist to drag out every inch of his pent up pleasure. It was as though he was tasting water for the first time, having been denied a single drop up until the moment Aaravos fed it into his open and willing mouth. His body thrust forward erratically out of time with every one of the demon’s movements and he failed to silence his gasps of thanks, as Aaravos gave him everything he had wanted, but had never craved so fervently until that night. 

Aaravos swept a finger across Viren’s cockhead, smearing the cum which had begun to leak across his heated skin, before returning to stroking Viren’s waiting length. **“ Yes… “** he cooed, his eyes never once leaving the human’s face, even as Viren’s eyes rolled back and his eyelids sheltered his blown pupils from view. **“ Very good, Viren. Relax, for me… Embrace the pleasure… I want you to cum for me, here within my hand. Will you do that for me? “** He squeezed the cock in his hand once more for good measure as his pace quickened. Beneath his touch he felt Viren’s body tremble. 

Behind closed eyes, Viren’s mind was electrified. Never had he imagined anything to feel that good, to feel that wonderful. And in the arms of a demon, he was lost to the throes of pleasure he had only ever known as a sin. But he cared not for what God might have thought, or what His angels, or even the Virgin Mary had to say for his moment of bliss. He arched into every touch and chased that blinding white heat of release. 

**“ Yes… oh… yes, more, more… oh… “**

His thighs shook suddenly before his lips fell apart in a silence burst of relief. Aaravos could not help but grin as Viren’s cum smeared across the back of his head and dribbled down his fingers, as he watched Viren’s entire form blossom and then wither in the peak of his orgasm. He continued to milk his tender cock until the last of his cum oozed down Viren’s spent length, before lifting his fingers to his lips.

**“ My, you look so sweet in the aftermath of your pleasure… I was right to choose you. “**

Viren nearly interrupted him but Aaravos pressed his cum-smeared fingers to his own open mouth and allowed his forked tongue to lap up the priest’s spillage. Unable to watch, Viren narrowly averted his eye to his clothing, hastily covering himself as Aaravos sucked his skin clean of cum. 

**“ Father, forgive me… forgive me… “** He mumbled, his mind a haze of regret and… gratitude. Oh how could he deny himself the excitement he had felt, how good it had been to have another’s hand upon his cock? It was greater than he could have imaged. And Aaravos’s endless stream of compliments did little to dissuade him from wanting more. But he cleared his throat and stepped out of Aaravos’s reach, the cold air refreshing against his tender skin.

“ **Damn you… for leading me from my chosen path. But I shall not be tainted, not by you. “** His words had returned to weak mumbles for his body was still soaring upon that recent pleasure. He noticed too that his robes were stained. Damp from where Aaravos’s hand had not been able to catch all of his release. **“ Damn you… “**

The demon merely chuckled. **“ Yes, _damn_ me. “** Shrugging, Aaravos turned upon his heel and Viren was met with the sight of the creature’s back, how his low clothing hung just above the small of his spine. **“ Such an amusing bit of fun you are... So very worth my time. I look forward to our next meeting, Viren. For now, you have satisfied my curiosity. I wonder… will your God be able to forgive you for this? Or will you pray to another being instead when you greet your congregation tomorrow, hm? “**

Viren made to go after him, to chase him down and then...and then… _Then what?_ He felt lost without Aaravos’s touch, suddenly hungrier than he had ever been, but as the demon’s voice began to fade as he walked into the darker side of the corridor, Viren was unable to do anything but watch. Even words fell flat, with somehow no part of him feeling bold enough to move or act at all. 

No, he merely remained with his mouth partially agape and his eyes staring desperately into the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow thank you so much for all the feedback on chapter one! I really appreciate everyone leaving little comments, I didn't expect that!
> 
> I also wanna give a big thank you to my best friend who has been proof-reading for me despite knowing nothing about TDP. Thank you so much my favourite mysterious and cryptic narrator. 
> 
> Anyway so here is chapter two! I hope this is good for you guys honestly, I have a LOT OF PLANS for future chapters so if you guys are interested I can keep it going! 
> 
> Same as before, feel free to reach out to me on twitter at @domacastle I'd love to chat!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for checking this out, I haven't written a fic in 2 years so consider this my return. 
> 
> This is going to be very smut heavy starting in chapter 2. The only reason I didn't start out with everything smutty was just because I wanted to gather some kind of idea of interest in this AU. It's possible my favourite AU to write in and I'm in love with this ship so I hope this beginning chapter is a good flavour for what's to come next.
> 
> Please feel free to reach out to me via twitter (@domacastle) if you like my work!


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